


Written on the Skin Just Under Your Face

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've crossed the line between dressing up and just plain kinky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written on the Skin Just Under Your Face

Tim's a bit worried at how comfortable Babs' old costume is. It shouldn't be. There are *heels* on the boots. His hair's hanging loose in a completely different way than he's used to -- pushed up and back, so it'll ripple in the wind. He's vaguely aware that he should have breasts, to really carry it off, but somehow it doesn't matter very much.

 

He's a lot more worried at how comfortable Cass looks in *his* costume. She's less masked than he's used to seeing her, but it doesn't matter much. She looks so utterly like Robin. Maybe more than he ever did. Without the black of her usual costume to disguise her movements, she's gorgeous to watch -- green and red animation of that physical language of hers.

 

The cape's not quite her, though. She doesn't need it.

 

He's not surprised when she pulls it loose. Cass doesn't need the cape to break her falls; he's never quite worked out how, but she's a better mistress of her body than he is. Better mistress of her costume.

 

Whereas Tim's inside/outside the costume all the time. Somebody has to be Robin, but not necessarily him.

 

In the mask, with her eyes hidden, she looks so much like a Robin it's eerie.

 

Makes him wonder if Bruce is watching them. Whether he's noticed how much Cass is his type.

 

Cass gives him enough advance warning that he can brace before she leaps at him. Lithe, littledark Robin, and she's acrobatic in a way Tim's never quite mastered. Maybe even more than Dick ever was. The armour doesn't let him see her breasts; she could be any Robin, except how she's wholly Cass in there.

 

She hits him really hard.

 

He rolls with it. It takes him a second to compensate for the heels on the boots, but then he likes them, likes how they remind him to keep his weight on his toes.

 

Legs tangle and capes and hair all over the floor. She catches him twice, hard, in the ribs, without actually doing him any damage. Obvious enough in her language that he understands she's asking for his attention.

 

Pay attention

 

Not just see her as Robin, but see Robin. See Cass. See Batgirl. See the parts of her that were only ever Babs.

 

Babs knows Cass. Pay attention.

 

Tim hunts things, collects the data he needs, zeroes in. Babs pays attention to everything.

 

This second when he sees them not Tim-and-Cass but Babs-and-Dick, far enough back in time that Tim didn't know everything yet. He wasn't angry with them. He didn't hate Batman yet.

 

Tick at the side of Cass' mouth that reminds him she's not used to having her face seen.

 

And, he's never been as raw as Dick, even about Batman, but he feels close to it right now. He's not quite surprised when Cass rolls him down and kisses him, not quite like herself but maybe a little like Dick, the way Dick kissed Babs and nothing like the way Dick kissed Tim the one time he kissed him, and.

 

Cass cocks her head to the side. Stops.

 

Hands holding his hands over his head. Arch of his body/her body. He has no idea which him/her is

 

stop

 

She kisses him again. Holds him down until he lets his breath go and kisses her back.

 

Hip-bump.

 

you're Batgirl don't forget

 

It's a reminder that he doesn't have to put up with anything he doesn't want to. She's holding him, but not hard enough to keep him if he wants to go.

 

So. Get up and run.

 

He's forgotten how good it feels to just move. Climb things and jump from them and hang in the air. Watch people who can't see him and move without orders or expectations. He's vaguely aware of Cass, perched and watching, very still.

 

She's adopted his usual posture. It looks a bit like her back hurts.

 

When he jumps down to crouch beside her, he's aware of the way she leans toward him. Miserable lonely gesture, and he wants to fix her posture, make the ache go out of her back. It's so *obvious*.

 

He lays one hand on her back, pushing just enough to straighten her spine, vaguely aware of the phantom pain in his own back. Curls his body in behind hers. Watches the dark floor.

 

Kisses her jaw.

 

It's his costume. He knows how to get into it. Clasps give, belt loosens, and he can brush his gloved fingertips over her skin. Belly, a little higher than the same touch would be on his body. Fingertip in her navel.

 

She arches when he pushes her shorts down a little.

 

Presses another kiss against her neck and combs his fingers through her pubic hair. He can't so much feel as hear it, close enough to be aware of the texture as a sound, rough hair against not-skin. Smell her.

 

He wraps an arm across her chest, pulls her back against him, between his legs. Slides a finger in a little, to rub against her clit.

 

Like something cracks in her. All this tension suddenly right at the surface, not exactly pushing him away but showing him how narrow the break in armour is, here.

 

He nods against her hair. Black and messy, longer and a bit coarser than his own, but not as wind-caught as it should be. He's tempted to pull the clip loose. No hands available, but there's no reason that should stop him.

 

Finger against her clit, sliding slickwet that he can feel even through the gloves, smell, and he pulls at the clip with his teeth.

 

Wraps himself around her -- legs knees and hands and arms and his head on her head. Her surprising containment that's nothing like her, entirely like him.

 

So it's not exactly like he's holding her in. Maybe holding her together. Hand against her pubic bone, finger on her clit, body around hers. Steady rub along the sides of the little shaft, occasional slide across the top.

 

This knot inside her that's going to break loose completely when she comes.

 

He breathes her. She almost hasn't moved, only shifted a little to allow his fingers access. She's still watching, this posture that suggests what he's doing has no effect, but he can feel her arch without moving.

 

Tightness all through her body that gives, and she leans back against him for real.

 

And this, right here, is what his cape's for. Wrap it around both of them, bright yellow on the inside and black on the outside. Lets him control how much other people see.

 

He thinks maybe, if he was someone else, he'd be smiling at her.

 

If he was masked, the way she's always masked, they'd be hotblack, completely invisible to the cameras. Nobody'd be able to see a thing.

 


End file.
